Page 28 of Jesse

He winks at me. “Sure,” I say. “Sounds pretty nice, actually.” I turn to Emma and say, “Shall we?”

She’s looking around nervously and I wonder if it’s too much? The gate, the driveway, the house, the butler. Maybe it’s too much?

“Emma?” I say. “You all right?”

“Sure.” She rallies, wiping her hands on her dress. “Yes. Drinks on the back patio sound fabulous.”

I offer her my arm, and unlike the first time I did this back in the city, she accepts it with grace and maybe, possibly, even eagerness.

The grin on my face just gets wider and wider as we make our way through the house and out the back French doors.

“This is quite lovely,” Emma says as I lead her down several stone steps to the covered patio area behind the house. It’s really an outdoor living room. Has a kitchen and everything.

“Thanks. I can’t take credit for it though. This is all Joey, I guess. Someone obviously spends a lot of time out here. And no way is Johnny keeping up with the landscaping and shit.”

There’s a small table set up in the center of the room. Not a patio table though. Round but made out of raw-edged wood. And the chairs aren’t plastic or that resin you typically find outdoors. They are plush and deep. Like living-room chairs you’d find indoors.

I wave my hand at one, waiting for Emma to take her seat, then walk around to the other one and sit.

“Nice,” she says, leaning back into the cushions. “You really know how to impress a girl.”

“Again,” I say, picking up the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket to check the label—it’s a good one—“I wish I could take credit. We’ll have to send Joey a thank-you note on Monday.”

I pop the cork as she chuckles, then pour her a glass and pick up the other bottle.

“We’re not having the same drink?” she asks. Confused.

“No,’ I say, twisting off the cap on the bottle of sparkling cider. “I quit drinking almost five years ago.”

Her face goes a little pale.

“Don’t worry,” I laugh. Pouring my cider into a flute. “I’m not a buzz kill. You enjoy yours. I’ll enjoy mine

She takes hers and I hold mine up, thinking up a good toast. “To the best ice-cream date ever.” I stare into her brown eyes a little longer than I should. Then add, “I hope it’s the first of many,” and it doesn’t even sound like a pick-up line.

Because it isn’t.

Yeah.

I like her.

“To many more,” she says, taking a sip.

Then her phone buzzes. Which is a little bit confusing, because she’s not carrying a purse.

“Oh,” she says, feeling up the skirt of her gown until she produces a phone from a hidden pocket. “One sec. It’s just the office.”

She texts back quickly, then shoves the phone back in her dress. “Now where were we?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN - EMMA

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Everything OK?” Jesse asks.

“Sure. Yes. Absolutely. Why?”

He chuckles. God. How did I get here? I mean, two hours ago I was fuming at this man. He was number one on my hate list. I loathed him. With a passion. So much of a passion, I put together this ridiculous kidnapping scheme to ‘teach him a lesson’.